


Chocolate Makes The Hearts Grow Fonder

by calliopes_pen



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2018-12-04 06:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11549319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopes_pen/pseuds/calliopes_pen
Summary: As a gift to Donna after an adventure goes wrong, the Doctor promises to take her to a place with the best hot chocolate ever created.





	Chocolate Makes The Hearts Grow Fonder

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a ficathon over at doctor_donna--I was assigned to write for Veracity. The prompt was to include at least one of the following: “Something light and fluffy involving Christmas presents gone wrong. Others include: sharing hot chocolate on a distant moon, California Dreamin', visiting Wilf's wedding to her grandma. You can do whichever or mix-match.” If anyone needs to know when this is set in season 4, it’s a bit before _Turn Left_.

The Doctor and Donna Noble made a mad dash to the TARDIS, narrowly escaping a mob (pitchforks and torches included, naturally) angered by yet another accidental breach of etiquette from the two. Panting, Donna grabbed the Doctor’s tie, and angrily ground out, “Next time, we’re going to a planet that _doesn’t_ think it’s time to put you to death if you wear anything other than a feather boa. _Got that_ , Space Man?” At his nod, she released him, and he practically staggered away. “Good.”

Maybe a planet that worshipped redheads? She would have to ask about that one later.

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair, making it look (to Donna’s eyes) remarkably like a porcupine that had a thyroid condition, _and_ happened to be on steroids. “I’m so, so sorry, Donna! I really, _truly_ didn’t know that the inhabitants of Juno V required redheads to dress in nothing but a feather boa when singing karaoke! Maybe it was a _new_ law!”

When she crossed her arms with a stern look and a raised eyebrow, he held his arms up in surrender. “Look! Last time I was there, I freed them from a dictatorship. Five hundred years ago, I believe it was. For me, three years ago, you know how it is. The people looked like purple emus in leather muu-muus--ooh, that rhymes, it does!--and they loved to force people to fight in gladiator-style games.”

He paused, tugging a particularly annoying strand of hair, and taking on what Donna had come to learn was a look that meant he had done something very stupid and/or humiliating at some point, and wouldn’t admit it.

“I should know, because they threw me into one of those in my Ninth incarnation. Let’s not even discuss what Jack said when he came to get my big-eared self out of _that_ one.” His reddened cheeks practically told her that the story was sure to be juicy. The next time his guard was down, Donna would coax it out of him.  
  
_Note to self: Learn if Time Lords can get drunk. If he can, I’ll go at him with a bottle of the most potent stuff I can find. Or check the TARDIS for something as strong as Romulan Ale-- **if** the old girl’s willing to participate, that is. _

In a vain attempt to change the subject, he added with a tiny grin, “Oh, but _you_ two--you and Jack would get along like a gas leak and an open flame. Next time we get stuck in Cardiff, be on the lookout for him. Or don’t--I don’t want you to slap him to death, even if he _would_ get better.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, Donna snapped her fingers to bring him back to the present. “Oi! Focus, Doctor. Remember? You were throwing yourself at my mercy?”

He tugged his ear, grinned his little boy smile to get off the hook, and shrugged. That grin never worked on her, but he _still_ tried. That practically sentient hair of his even seemed to be embarrassed. _Someday I’ll ask him if it’s a wig from another planet, or some kind of symbiotic creature, she thought. Normal hair **can’t** be that flexible, can it? _

“I have just the thing that will make it up to you. _Well_ , two things. First, I’ll get you a tour of my transcendental chocolate room-- _then_ , presents. Everyone loves presents-- _no_ , we’ll have to do presents first! We’ll save the best for last.”

“Christmas presents, six months early? Ah, well--time machine means we can have it now, and another one later, right?”

And the next time they stopped off in Chiswick, she would make sure to get the Doctor to deliver some presents to her mother and Gramps personally. Her mother (and the Doctor, knowing his fear of her) would be horrified—her grandfather would be delighted.

The TARDIS apparently agreed, going by the massive Christmas tree (she had raised the roof a bit to accommodate, as well, Donna noted with wide eyes) that had shown up when they both turned around. The Doctor just smiled and patted the wall. There was a delighted laugh from Donna as she saw that there was a note among the decorations, which were such that if it were a regular tree, it would have collapsed under the weight of the tinsel and lights.

"But…won’t all the tinsel clog the thingamajig that goes up and down?"

"The central column? _Nah!_ "

They both stared at each other for a brief moment, knowing they had jinxed themselves. They looked to the central column in expectation--nothing happened. No ominous moans, and no explosions.

Springing into action and grabbing his glasses, the Doctor picked up the note and read it aloud. “‘Take a look under the console--I’ve hidden both your gifts. I knew what you wanted to give...and that my Doctor would rush about like a decapitated fowl if left to his own devices. As thanks, please ensure that there will be no more banging your mallet against the console for the next month? I’ll send you to the inside of a volcano or a pit of quicksand otherwise. Love, The TARDIS.’ _Well_ , I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, girl. You’ve been taking lessons from Donna again, haven’t you?”

Donna snorted in a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Watch it, bucko. I might just confiscate the mallet for my _own_ use. I could try to drive _myself_ if you’re not careful.” The musical hum from the TARDIS let Donna know that that would make her very happy. She chose to ignore the odd muttered comment of “Rassilon’s hair trimmings, but you can be _testy_ ,” from the Doctor’s direction.

The Doctor hurried over, grabbed the presents, and shook each one, before giving Donna her own. Opening hers first, the Doctor leaned on her shoulder, eagerly watching. “ _Brilliant_! That looks like the velvet scarf I made in my Eighth incarnation. And the cape I thought would look dashing! The wool version was too itchy--sensitive skin, you know. I thought I had lost it, but...” At the look that practically dared him to try to take it away from her, he put his hands up in surrender, and added, “ _but_...you’ll look positively _breathtaking_ with it around your neck and the cape over you, though! Ha! How was _that_ for being quick?”

She had to chuckle at his expectant look. “Very good, Doctor. Now, what did you get?”

“Ooh…a new pair of Converse! And…a bottle of _spray deodorant?_ ”

With her hands over her mouth to keep in her laughter at the TARDIS’ warped sense of humor, Donna made a guess. “Time Lords don’t sweat? Obviously, she disagrees...and just so ya know? I suggested it to her at one point--after we got stuck in Vesuvius. _Whew_!”

His mouth hung open in a classic look of shock. For once, he had been struck speechless.

Donna gloated silently. _Finally! At long last **you’re** struck dumb by something! That’s so priceless…_

She looked at her nails, before casually adding, “Besides, what else do you get a thousand and twenty year old time-traveling alien that runs all the time?” She continued with a flourish, “and _don’t_ say you’re only nine hundred again--the TARDIS left a calendar lying about a month or so back, with all your years on it. _Including_ something about your time in 1913, the Year That Wasn’t, and all the other times you got stuck on the planet. Lying about your age doesn’t wash anymore.”

The Doctor playfully muttered, “traitor,” and something else that sounded strangely like “brilliant woman, you are,” before singing out in his best Alvin and the Chipmunks voice, “I just wanted a hula-hooooppp!”

She quickly covered his mouth before he could destroy her eardrums. _Who knew that Time Lords could hit a high note, and just keep going like that? He could shatter the windows!_ “Hush, you!”

\--

And so it was, that after a brief wrestling match (and the discovery that the TARDIS had added _Time Travel And TARDIS Repair for Dummies_ to the Doctor’s presents) it was finally decided that Donna should go to the chocolate room. The Time Lord led her through the labyrinth of the TARDIS’ corridors, finally stopping to unlock a room that Donna knew she would have no hope of ever finding again, unless the TARDIS wanted her to. Which was as likely as not. The Doctor grinned and gestured like a mediocre magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Twirling to face her, he tried to add melodrama, before giving up and tapping her nose in amusement. Donna glared, silently communicating that the Time Lord would soon lose a finger if he didn’t stop that.

“Donna Noble, you’re one of the few that now know about this room. Transcendental chocolate as far as the eye can see. Bigger on the inside, of course, and as sweet as sweet can be. There for emergencies, climate controlled to prevent melting or spoilage of _any_ sort.” He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the direction in which Donna was looking, before adding with a shrug, “ _Oh_ , just ignore that bite mark. Jack got in here shortly after I met him…and then The Master discovered this room during the Year That Wasn’t.”

Tugging his ear, and looking into the distance for a moment, he added, “Oh, and while we’re on the subject of chocolate, remind me to avoid going to the planet of the caramel chocolate people. One planet over from the Ents--they hate me.”

Donna was intrigued. The next time something went horribly wrong on an adventure-- _like with Pompeii_ , she mused--she could get him to take her in here. The running about was the best diet plan ever after eating everything in there. Unless the rooms moved around again. The Doctor eyed her, and grinned, knowing exactly what she was planning.

He tugged her arm, and had a mischievous look in his eyes. “What do you say? Fancy a cup of hot chocolate from the moon of Caritas, _maybe_ followed by a serenade from yours truly? Hmm? Their hot chocolate is the best in six galaxies. Maybe I could tempt you with a trip to an intergalactic marketplace afterwards, even?"

He was bouncing on the heels of his feet, and giving her the alien puppy dog eyes again. She tried (and failed) to hold back a grin.

“Ah! I see you _like_ that idea! Intrigued, even! After we get back, we can take another tour of the chocolate room…I’ll even show you the candy river, which _briefly_ got detoured to my bedroom after the Year That Wasn’t. The old girl was annoyed with me for losing her. Tempted enough?”

Donna finally nodded, before giving him a wry look. “ _Fine_ , Doctor…your real name wouldn’t happen to be Willy Wonka, by chance?”

He bounced away, beaming as she poked him in the ribs. “Nope! He wasn’t even a pocket watched Time Lord--and trust me, I checked! He’ll never forgive me for that frisking.” And with that, he shook his head and bounced off to the controls.

A thought occurred to her, and she raised an eyebrow in amusement as he flipped a switch with his foot, while slapping a button with his nose, of all things. “Just _how often_ do you use that room? You always on a sugar rush? Because it certainly seems that way with you running around like you do.”

He tugged his ear and paused. “ _Oh_ , just once a week…or after a particularly bad century.”

“That explains _so_ much, Space Man!” His answering pout made her laugh--especially as he added sadly, “Sometimes the old girl locks me out--she claims it’s for her own good. Not mine, _hers_. Lectures me that I shouldn’t eat sweets and drive.”

Going from pout to grinning madman (complete with glasses askew and wrinkled tie) in under a second, he resumed programming their destination, while Donna consolingly patted the wall of the TARDIS. The thrumming beneath her hand let her know the sentiment was appreciated.

“Late ‘60’s-- _specifically_ , 1960’s, don’t want to miss it by centuries--coming right up! Unless you really do want to stay here while I serenade you? Didn’t think so!”

“Want to kidnap The Mamas and the Papas while you’re at it, Space Boy?”

“Can I?” His voice had such a hopeful note to it, that she almost couldn’t say no. _Almost._

“Not in this lifetime.”

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at her before replying in a dramatic tone, “Aw, a spoilsport is what you are!” He cranked up the tune of _California Dreamin’_ before hitting the final switch, and they were off--Donna reaching over to actually slap him on the arm when he really did begin to serenade her. She chuckled when he managed to duck out of the way at the last moment.

Instead, as he turned away, she ruffled his already unruly hair. His laughter echoed through the TARDIS.

“ _Allons-y_ , Donna!”

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go out to SeanDC and Persiflage_1 for beta reading.


End file.
